Two Bullets

By: Mitchel McGreevy

It was dusk… a young couple had just come out of the movies, and turned left down a bright street smiling to each other… the smell of flowers in front of the small shops that lined the street was carried to them on the cool summer breeze. Then a gruff voice quietly said, “Stop!”

The voice had come from a middle-aged man, everything about him seemed dirty, his dirty brown work coat over a dirty plaid, grey shirt, and his grease-stained blue jeans. The one feature that was most prominent about this man was his deep, hollow, glacial-blue eyes, seemingly illuminated by the nearby streetlamp. The one feature that was the most disturbing about this man was the pistol that he held in his right hand, pointed at the woman’s face. The thief was relaxed, knowing that none would dispute the control that he had, so long as he had the gun.

The young woman, Jean, stood terrified, unmoving. James, the young man, had his mind racing. What options did they have? Run? No that could get himself killed, or worse, her, besides the police station was ten blocks away. No, compliance seemed to be their best option; slowly, they followed him into the alley.

The thief was poised with the gun in hand, ready if either attempted to do anything. “Gimmie the goods,” he said calm, yet maliciously, “watches, jewels, cash, all of it, and hurry up!” The couple obeyed him, but James slyly drew a pen from his pocket, it was not a gun but he figured he could use it to defend her in any way that he could. The thief sneered with an evil curl in his lip he said, “Thanks folks,” and cocked the gun. James dove into action; he brought out the pen and plunged it into his adversary’s heart as the gun went off into his own.

The thief, in a final attempt to spite James turned the gun to Jean, and fired. James had predicted this, and had thrown himself in front of the gun to take another bullet in his heart. The men lay opposite each other in the alley, one dead, the other with Jean kneeling beside him, weeping. Then, slowly, James sat up, rather stiffly.

Jean could hardly believe it, she watched him take two bullets to the heart for her, and, regardless, he was getting up. “You saved me!” she exclaimed, “but, how?” He lifted his coat and drew out a small black velvet box with two holes in it, he opened the box to show her…a ring that was broken by the two bullets that had smashed into it. “No,” he said, “you saved me…will you marry me?” He already knew her answer, and it was exactly as he had expected, “Yes!” she cried, “Yes.”